


I Just Want Your Extra Time and Your

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Frottage, Kissing Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-13
Updated: 2012-08-13
Packaged: 2017-11-12 02:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Kiss.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Just Want Your Extra Time and Your

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to pour my kissing kink into Stiles so I did.

Stiles swallows air noisily. He;s frozen with his mouth lightly ajar and heart hammering in his chest. Derek looms over him, pressing warmth into Stiles, staring at him with his piercing eyes. They’d finally stopped dancing around each other, and Derek had snuck into Stiles’ room. Stiles knew it was going to happen, and he had just expected to talk and maybe cuddle. What he hadn’t been expecting was Derek to growl at him—which, totally sexy, even considering the fear it struck in him—and for Derek to basically tackle Stiles onto the bed.

“Hey big guy.” Stiles whimpers.

Derek continues to stare, though the grip he has on Stiles’ hips loosens minutely.

“What—whatcha doing?”

Derek cocks his head and Stiles takes a moment to revel in the fact that alpha or not, Derek was such a  _puppy_  sometimes. “I was going to kiss you.” He says, simply. “Isn’t that what people do when they’re dating?”

Stiles laughs but it’s more like a series of high pitched squeaks. “Right, yeah, of course.”

Derek leans back and frowns. “Stiles, I don’t—we don’t have to. If you don’t want to.” Derek’s fingers are oddly gentle as they cup Stiles’ face.

“I do, I do want to,” Stiles says, but he clams up again when he knows he won’t be able to explain what he means. What he wants. “I do want to.” He says again as he scrubs his hands over his face.

“It’s okay.” Derek says, and he flashes this little tiny grin at Stiles. “As long as—”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re dating,” Stiles returns the grin weekly. “Definitely dating.” He reaches for Derek’s hand and links their fingers. Stiles tugs him closer again. “Stay? For the night?”

Derek simply nods.

)

But, things can’t stay easy forever, because the end of the school year comes and goes, and Derek and Stiles spend plenty of time going on dates, holding hands, getting teased by the rest of their pack. But they don’t do anything  _else_ , and Stiles feels like he should be upset since he’s the teenager—except  _he’s_  the one who won’t let it progress. He’s the one who makes some lame excuse about the bathroom whenever he and Derek watch a movie, and Derek scoots a little closer to him. He’s the one who ducks out of the goodnight kiss after a  _perfect_  date.

Stiles groans miserably. He’s a terrible boyfriend.

“For what it’s worth,” a familiar voice starts, “I don’t think you’re a bad boyfriend.” Derek is sitting in Stiles’ computer chair, arms cross and lips curled in a sort of distressed smile. “However, you are an increasingly silent boyfriend, and  _that_  worries me.”

Stiles pouts and resists his urge to hide under the covers. “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

“So I assumed.” Derek says.

“But—I mean, I’m a teenage boy. I watch a lot of porn.”

“Naturally.” Derek looks like he wants to tease a bit, but he doesn’t.

“Lots of different kinds of porn.”

“Stiles, are we still talking about kissing?”

“Yes!” Stiles shouts, then curls in on himself as if he could retract his outburst. “I.. I’ve never been kissed, never kissed anyone—not really, you know, that whole family doesn’t count kinda thing.” He flexes his fingers and shakes his legs, trying to force the words out. “But I  _want_  to.” He groans again, because this really isn’t working.

Derek stands and seats himself at the foot of Stiles’ bed. “Are you scared?” He asks gently.

“What? No.”

“Then what is it?”

Stiles shrugs, still looking miserable.

Derek’s eyes narrow, and he creeps closer on the bed until Stiles is pressed up against the headboard, and Derek is very much invading his personal bubble. “Does it turn you on?” He asks. “Do you get hard just thinking about kissing someone, letting their tongue into your mouth?” Derek bypasses Stiles’ lips, going for his ear instead. “Do you get off on the thought of making out on your couch, where your dad could walk in—where  _anyone_  could barge in and see how desperate you are just for  _my_  lips?”

Stiles moans, eyes watering. “Yes.” He croaks.

Derek grins. “I’m going to kiss you now, alright?” He says gently, lips hovering just a hair’s breadth away from Stiles’. Stiles nods, eyes falling shut and breath coming out in sharp short gasps. Derek seals his lips over Stiles’ and relished the taste, the feel of soft pliant  _innocence_. Derek presses in close and his hands rise again to cup Stiles’ face. The kiss breaks and comes together again, and Stiles pushes against Derek, asking with his tongue to deepen the kiss.

Stiles moans the very second their tongues touch, and Derek groans in return. Stiles fingernails scrape at Derek’s neck and shoulders, slipping beneath his shirt and jacket to rake down his back and across his arms. Stiles’ hips jerk up, and he keeps making desperate noises against Derek’s tongue dominating his mouth.

“Stiles, we need to stop.”

Stiles keens almost like it pains him.

“I’m not fucking you tonight.” Derek telling him but still licks the seam of his lips.

Stiles pushes him away, and inhales deeply. “Yeah, yeah, no, not tonight.”

They grin at each other, and when Stiles collapses into laughter everything feels just right.

)

True to his words, they do settle themselves on the Stilinski couch—weeks after their first explosive kiss—and Stiles does end up in Derek’s lap and Derek’s hands end up on Stiles’ hips. Their mouths come together with practiced ease, but the noises Stiles makes and the way his body moves never ceases to amaze.

Derek’s nails, blunt and human, dig greedily into the flesh of Stiles’ hips as Stiles plasters himself to Derek’s chest, hungry for his lips. Derek bites Stiles’ lip enough to make it plump and red.

“Derek, Derek please.”

Stiles’ fingers fist in the fabric of Derek’s shirt. “What do you want Stiles?” Derek asks, grinning.

“Want—want to come.”

“We’ve only just started, Stiles.” But there isn’t any venom or taunt in Derek’s tone. Only delight. “Wouldn’t you rather wait?”

Stiles shakes his head, and bounces in Derek’s lap. He knows it’s true, that they’ve only been kissing for a few minutes. But his cock is achingly, painfully hard in his pants and he  _needs_  to come. But Derek isn’t cruel, and he drops a hand just a little lower to cup Stiles through his jeans.

Stiles feels embarrassed, faintly, that it only takes the warmth of Derek’s hand covering his dick to make him come. But, he thinks as the afterglow fades, he  _is_  a teenage boy and this whole mess is basically a rite of passage.

He grins lazily at Derek, feeling another rush of head when Derek’s own dick presses against his thigh. Derek’s head lolls back and his hips move barely, simply feeling Stiles molded to his body, and he’s coming too. Stiles cups his face and kisses Derek sweetly.


End file.
